Tales of the Raider
by AGDude
Summary: Valdor the Raider will go through buried tombs, bandit caves, ancient ruins, cursed strongholds, and whatever else to find precious treasure deep in the heart of Morrowind. This may include some crossover elements from other series or original content.
1. Chapter I: Sethan Tomb

Welcome to my first story, Tales of the Raider! This is a story project revolving around an Imperial known as Valdor the Raider. He lives in an area near the Zainab Camp in the Grazelands region of Morrowind. As with some game fanfics, this may give spoilers, as Morrowind is very diverse. All locations will most likely be found in game, possibly altered slightly for the sake of adventure. Originally, each chapter was going to be a focus on one specific location, but I might possibly add some drama and character development before and after the chapter. Once again, this is my first shot, I hope you enjoy it.

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He walked back into the camp dumbfounded by his initial forgetfulness. He had first walked into the tomb with naught but the clothes on his back and a trusty dagger. How ill-prepared. "Ugh, why would an adventurer with my experience walk into a bloody tomb without a silver weapon? I must have been blinded by my urge to explore… that I should control." 

He came upon the yurt of a crafty trader in Zainab, possibly the craftiest in the entire continent. Valdor opened the skin flap on the yurt and proceeded to meet the barterer. "Excuse my intrusion, but I hear you're a trader? May I have a look at your wares?" The Dunmer slowly pointed to a nearby barrel of weapons, a sack of ingredients, and crates of odds and ends, but didn't say a word. The raider eyed a few enchanted weapons. "(These would be excellent to bring along! But I can't afford them…)" Then feeling in his pocket, he discovered he was VERY short on cash. The only item of any significant worth was the flin in his backpack. And he was saving that drink for a special occasion!

Sighing, he eyed and removed a silver axe from the barrel then slipped his beverage from his pack. "This and 25 septims for the axe. Yes that is flin. If you wish you can smell or taste it yourself." The dark elf, rather suspicious of strange outlanders, sniffed over the substance, thought for a moment, and in a seemingly reluctant manner accepted the deal by nodding his head. "Thank you". Valdor headed south to the nearby tomb, not too far from the camp. He walked back in, and readied his new weapon.

From the back of a column, a bonelord appeared. Wasting no time, Valdor charged, hurling a volley of chops and slashes, leaving no room for the bonelord to attack. It fell apart quickly under the incredible blows. "I guess I still got it in me!" Valdor's cry of glory had not gone unheard. A door opened in the distance, and out stepped a skeleton, armed with a shield and club. "Hah, you call that a weapon?" As a typical skeleton would, the undead charged straight at Valdor, swinging his club madly.

Valdor parried the blow, but realized the skeleton was more powerful than the average bone bag. Locked in combat, the warrior skeleton managed to land minor blow to the shoulder, but nothing devastating, before it fell to the ground. Valdor proceeded with caution into the depths of the tomb. It was standard architecture for catacombs, but seemed a bit quiet. The end of the tomb was marked by a large ash pit. "Huh," scoffed the raider. "Is this it?" Just then he turned around shaking his head, to discover three bonelords all in a spell-casting state. "Oh sh- ARGH!" The adventurer was sent flying straight into the ash pit by the powerful "Grave Curse" of the bonelords. Usually a spell like that is only meant to weaken an opponent, but due to the strength and numbers of these bonelords Valdor was hit by something much more powerful.

After the ash and dust had settled, Valdor was still lying in the ashpit. For ten seconds, nothing moved. Then, in a sudden rise of fury and power, a maddened spirit rose from the ground and swung his axe in an absolute whirlwind of strength, tearing all three bonelords to shreds. He was left panting for air. "That'll…. teach em… to mess with me." He then stood upright and surveyed the room. "Well, that should be a good wakeup call to combat. That ash however is quite sickening…. I think I'll need a bath when I return to my estate." Then after taking the time to secure any and all loose items, Valdor returned home, and organized his new fortune, which included a couple old books, a couple weapons (most notably a dwarven mace and silver claymore), and a lot of bonemeal (he took this due its magical properties of course).

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It is a bit short, but hopefully the next entry will be longer and more interesting. Reviews would be greatly appreciated, so comment on anything that needs to be changed, or would be nice to include. 


	2. Chapter II: Pulk

This next chapter is longer, and hopefully has more action than the last. I'm trying to sharpen the details and make things more interesting. Please read and review, it will help give me an idea of what I need to improve.

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"Valdor, you say? Now that's a mighty queer name for an Imperial…" commented Olaf the Proud. "Heh, knowing the nomenclature of your kind, I would think you are in no position to talk." "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" The two had accepted a job from the Legion. A group of armed men was sent from Sadrith Mora to the Grazelands to take care of a problem involving a thieves' den, which was also responsible for smuggling illegal substances. As the Imperial Legion is much weaker on the Western side of Vvardenfell, the higher ranking officers had been pushing for more action. 

The Legion's unit had probed Zainab Camp for a tip on the whereabouts of the den. It appeared the locals knew well of its location, and had also dubbed it "Pulk". Although the camp had been affected by the group's illegal actions, the ashkhan had ignored it, along with the rest of the tribe's leaders. The unit thought that a smaller, stealthier approach should be taken to secure the area, so it issued a bounty…

Olaf was looking for a job at the time, needing a place to supply his trusty axe. The unit had also heard from a tavern in Vos that a local Imperial would be interested in such a mission. The Legion had declared they wanted the thieves either dead or alive. The reward for their heads would be a hefty sum of drakes, and a local trader in Vos had just gotten a shipment of adventuring supplies (this had gotten Valdor's attention).

The Nord was wearing heavy fur armor, and carrying an iron shardaxe. His hair was long and white, as was his beard. Olaf looked a few years older than Valdor, but still gruff and dangerous, like many Nords. Valdor had come wearing adventurers' clothes, some chitin boots, and was armed with the silver claymore he took in the Sethan Tomb. He trusted in his speed to dodge strikes, but Olaf thought he was just mad for not wearing more protective gear.

After a pleasant walk, they found the cave easily. "Now remember Olaf, we should take these guys out quietly, and not like some war hero." "Falling for those stereotypes of my race, huh lad? We can do the job however you want, just as long as I get my gold." They slipped in the door quietly.

Hathei took a long yawn and closed his eyes. He began to think, questioning why he should be guarding the cave, "(Why must I do thisss? No one'sss bothered us yesterday. No one'sss bothered us last week. No one'sss going to bother us to-˝ and at that moment, the blunt end of Olaf's axe had made contact with the back of the Argonian's head, doubtlessly leaving him unconscious. "I'll tie him up," whispered Valdor.

They continued into the cave where they found a circular area with a wooden overhead structure. Despite trying to stay quiet, they had been spotted. Another Argonian leapt from the structure landing right on top of Valdor. They fiercely clawed at each other, but the Argonian seemed to be much more aggressive. The attack had surprised Olaf, leaving him hesitant, but he regained his composure and swung his axe carefully (barely missing Valdor) and into the shoulder of the Argonian. He tensed, and before he could yell in pain the raider covered his mouth. Olaf grabbed and pinned him to the floor, allowing Valdor to get out his trusty rope…

Incredibly, the whole event had stirred little noise other than the bandit's collision with Valdor. "You watch him, Olaf, I'm going to scout out the cave. If things get hairy I'll call." The Nord was left to watch the Argonian, and tried to help bandage the wound against his struggles. He thought, "(Now this certainly feels odd. Why the blazes am I even doing this? The Legion said they didn't really care what happened to these criminals… I guess even a Nord like me can't just let someone die needlessly.)" "What's your name?" "You think I'm going to tell you?" "You really are in no position to refuse." "…" "You know the Law won't treat you as kindly as I have." "You call putting an axe in me kind? Hmph. I am Gam-kur."

Deeper inside the cave, Valdor had discovered an odd, deep pool-like formation. He also managed to find a Nord in ringmail with a battle axe, a strange face tattoo, and a really bad temper. "Well, so much for sneaking." Valdor drew his claymore and locked the thief in battle. He threw a blow, but his sword was deflect by the axe, leaving him open. Quickly he shifted to avoid the attack, and countered, but the Nord did the same. They were both very proficient in their arms. "You know, your two lizard buddies just bit the dust." "WHAT! How dare you harm them! RARGH!" The Nord became very angry and threw the axe out of his hand straight at Valdor's head. It was very, very close, but he avoided death by less than an inch. The battle axe found itself stuck in a nearby stalactite. The trick had worked though. Anger had left his foe completely vulnerable, and realizing his flaw, the opponent submitted. He quickly tied up his hands and feet.

Olaf came as quickly as possible, as did the two remaining inhabitants of the cave: an Orc and a Khajiit. "Two on two, wonderful," smirked Olaf. From the top up, the Orc was naked. However, he was equipped with Netch leather greaves and boots. He also sported a large silver battle axe. Olaf knew this opponent was an even match for him, and true to his race, he always liked a good challenge to prove his power. That left Valdor with the Khajiit armed in Chitin. At first he believed it would be too easy- After all, it was his fine silver claymore up against a puny silver dagger. "(HA!)" he thought to himself.

The raider raised his claymore and charged, but the Khajiit dodged his vertical blow twice as fast. "(What! How could he do that?)" He thought that it was impossible for a well-trained rogue, born under The Steed even, to be out maneuvered by a simple, petty Khajiit thief. "You look surprised, Imperial. S'radirr would have you know that he was born under The Steed!" Valdor quickly regained his focus. "Then it appears we share the same sign!" He charged at his optimal speed back at S'radirr. But he changed his stance, dancing with his blade, and spun like a whirlwind at his foe. Similar to his axe trick at Sethan, he had become a spinning deathtrap so fast that S'radirr couldn't even SEE an opening, much less strike it. The Khajiit had never seen such a trick, and certainly didn't wish to feel its devastating power, so he sprinted away, almost avoiding the technique. Almost. The tip of the claymore cut his left claw, and in pain S'radirr dropped his dagger and held the wound with his other. Amazingly, no part of his claw was fully severed from the rest of the body. But by his cry, one could tell the pain was staggering.

Meanwhile, the two remaining warriors had given each other many cuts, some rather deep. Neither was letting up, or showing signs of weakness. Olaf hadn't noticed it, but he had been cornered next to the pool-like formation. The Orc smiled and charged quickly, axe raised and positioned to chop. Before he came in contact with the rushing opponent, Olaf positioned his axe horizontally, holding one hand at the end and one up next to the blade.

As the Orc's axe came down, Olaf brought the hilt in contact with the other and then pushed up. This locked his hilt with part of the opposing axe's blade. Despite the powerful shove, the Orc didn't loosen his grip, and in turn his body followed the axe into the air. This sent the Orc flying over Olaf and into the pool. His cuts had let out some blood into the water, and the two nearby slaughterfish had sensed it immediately.

"I can't swim!" "Moghakh!" cried out S'radirr, soon after gripping his own wound. Olaf reached out quickly in an attempt to save him. Moghakh had let his axe fall deeper into the pool. Olaf managed to grasp his arm, but the large slaughterfish had also managed to grasp his bare upper torso, and were gnawing into it. After a minute of tug-o-war, Olaf had finally pulled the body out, but Moghakh was already dead of blood loss. For a moment there was silence. The mission had almost been completed without death. Olaf felt his stomach churn.

"Why did you try to save him?" asked Valdor. "Why not, he had no intention of fighting, he let go of his axe." "Olaf, these are a bunch of thieves. Don't feel sorry that you let one die. They aren't good people." Olaf tensed his face muscles. "(Perhaps he is right. Why should I care?)" Then came the sound of many iron footsteps. The Legion's troops had arrived. Valdor explained the entire situation. "Good work here," said the gruff captain. "You two will get 2,000 gold apiece. Your work here is really astonishing. If you are ever in search of another good mission, just come see me in Sadrith Mora. We Imperials need all the help we can get on this side of the province. Just remember to ask them for Marcus Alura."

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**Elvish Mistress**: Thanks for the review! The tomb is somewhat remote, and Zainab Camp doesn't pay much attention to outlanders, so Valdor can easily slip by without upsetting the Legion. 

I'm going to be going on a vacation, so I won't be able to update for at least a week. Sorry for this delay in advance, but I will try to get the next one up soon after I return. Let me say that it WILL be plot focused, and not involve a dungeon.


	3. Chapter III: Eye of Drek

The third chapter is up! It is rather short I admit, but it is meant to prompt chapter four.

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Valdor walked into the High Elf's sitting room, ready to discuss business. The first thing he noticed was how pale and sickly he looked. 

"So this is why you couldn't come over to my place?"

"Precisely, raider."

Earlier the raider had gone to Sadrith Mora and asked Alura if he knew anyone who may know of some rare treasures. Using the funds he had received from the Pulk job, he had purchased new equipment and was prepared to go for something big. He was informed that this High Elf noble was the person he needed to see.

"Have you seen the temple lately? I'm sorry but you really do look bad."

"Worry not about me, my friend. Instead let us discuss YOUR matters."

Valdor walked to the table at which the Altmer sat and took a seat in front of him. He got comfortable and rubbed his eyes.

With a sigh, Valdor began, "Are there any rare treasures in the Grazelands that you know of, Iterdel?"

"Why of course. An ancient dagger was lost long ago near Indoranyon; I propose it is most likely in Pinsun."

"I guess that means I should expect to fight some outlaws. Meh. Big deal. What about the history of this dagger?"

"I am glad you asked. There once was a conflict in east Morrowind known as the Rune War. Two noble factions fought for influence in this region. Imperial law was even weaker back then, and had other matters to worry about, so this went unnoticed.

"The first faction was the Eye of Drek, centered on a powerful, yet incredibly secretive leader bearing the faction's name. He used only the most professional mercenaries to do battle. No one has ever seen his true form; he always wore full armor in public and was said to be immortal.

"It is said this faction still exists today, and even their leader survives. Even the few who know of this war say they are making a return to Morrowind. If this is true, the artifact you seek may have already been recovered."

"Well, then why did you bother to even tell me of this dagger?"

"There is a good chance that it is still there. If it is, you will have a very powerful item in you possession. The other faction was said to be a knights' order, somewhat of an unofficial cult for the emperor: Knights of the Rune. Even their powers were no match for the professionals Drek had hired.

"The dagger was used by a powerful captain in Drek's forces. It is enchanted daedric. Very useful."

Valdor was clearly ready to stop the history lesson and go begin his search. He rose up from the table, offering a polite nod.

"Thank you for all you help, Iterdel. And you really need to take a trip to the temple."

"I appreciate your concern. Just remember you may not be the only one searching for it. Will you be returning to talk some other time, Imperial?"

"Well, perhaps."

"Then I have a secret you should know. Give me your word that you won't tell a soul."

"Um, sure. I'm not the kind to start rumors."

After looking to make sure the door was closed in the Telvanni structure, Iterdel gave a wide smile revealing his teeth. The raider was surprised by what he saw. Two enormous incisors were clearly connected to the noble's sickly appearance.

"Not a soul, you hear?"

With a wink, the raider replied, "Of course not, Iterdel." Valdor left for his estate ready to prepare for his next journey.

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I was slightly unsure of this chapter. If reviewers see anything that's awkward, doesn't fit well into Tamrielic lore, or is just plain wrong, include it in your reviews. 

**Elvish Mistress: **I really enjoyed your Morrowind stories. It would be nice to see more soon.

**ReadingWhiz89**: Thanks for checking out my story! Most of the characters are original, and I'm sorry to say that there are a lot of terms that sound like mumbo jumbo to people who aren't familiar with The Elder Scrolls. :-( But I do hope you enjoy the action.


	4. Chapter IV: An Old Grudge

At first, I thought I would upload this later, as it hasn't been too long since my last update. But I was in the mood, so here is a chapter with a LOT more action. I already have the story planned out, and it will only be a total of 7-8 chapters (I am not sure if I will make a spin-off or sequel yet. If anyone would like to see more of these characters in another fic, tell me in your review!). Also, be warned it is a bit bloodier than previous entries, but nothing too graphic (or at least in my opinion).

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Valdor took a last drink of his shein before departing. To get to Pinsun he would have to travel almost directly east of his estate. It wasn't necessarily a long road, but it had a fair share of hills. 

It had just begun to turn dark. For this trip Valdor had armed himself in chitin, but did not bring a helm or pauldrons. Also, the raider took a steel claymore to do battle, a custom-made dagger he had purchased from a barterer in Vos, a few picks, a few enchanted scrolls, and a charm with which he could lull his opponents to sleep. This was one of the little trinkets he picked up back in the Sethan Tomb.

"(I would really like to use this little device at least one,)" thought Valdor. "(It really sounds like a fun toy.)"

He regained focus as he spotted a strange shaped brown-looking object in the sky.

"Oh by the Tribunal, not one of those nuisances…" muttered the adventurer.

The cliff-racer darted toward him, giving Valdor just enough time to draw his claymore and strike its head to finish the battle.

Cleaning his sword, he uttered, "These must be the most annoying creatures in Morrowind… no, all of Tamriel."

He continued down his path. Far down the rugged trail his eyes spotted a campfire, and what seemed to be two rogue ashlanders. Reacting quickly he began to turn away, but it was too late. They had eyed him as well.

Both Dunmer sported Netch armor, chitin spears, and like most renegade ashlanders intended to kill on sight. Clan ashlanders were hostile enough- these types were far worse. Valdor drew his claymore once again and prepared for the worst.

As soon as one threw a blow, Valdor had to parry it and quickly turn so he could dodge the other. It almost looked more like a dance than a real battle. But soon the raider found an opportunity. The two ashlanders had retreated back and were planning on sandwiching him with their two spears. All he did was sidestep the technique, and in result the two Dark Elves had impaled each other.

Only a short walk away from his last gruesome encounter, Valdor found the cave. He searched above ground to see if the treasure had, by some lucky chance, not been lost deep underground. No sign of the dagger. While searching, the raider thought he heard something- something like the sound of footsteps. Quickly he raised his head and looked about, but found nothing unusual. He entered the cave.

He was immediately spotted by the two guards: Redguard and Dunmer females. His sword met with the Redguard's, locking them in combat. But still Valdor noticed the other bandit guard, who had been cocking a crossbow. He quickly retreated from his first encounter and disarmed the Dunmer, then drove his sword through her heart. He had just enough time to pull his sword out and fight back against the other thief.

The raider noticed when he entered that the cave entrance had been used to store small boats. The cave was on the Eastern bay, so they must have come from one of the small Telvanni islands. Seeing as he was making no progress in the duel, Valdor retreated again, this time to a more elevated position near one of the boats. He waited until his opponent had followed him into the right position, and then kicked the boat so hard it fell over on top of her!

With a mighty thrust, the raider shoved his long claymore into the wooden boat and through his trapped foe. He didn't hear nor feel any signs of struggle afterwards. Turning to the nearby passage, his journey through the cave commenced.

The next outlaw he spotted was a Dunmer armed in chitin. It appeared as though he didn't see the raider. Using this opportunity, Valdor took out his charm. He held it up and began chanting, closing his eyes. When he opened them, the spell had worked and his enemy was on the ground. So he took out his dagger, and finished him.

As he was traveling down the tunnel he spotted another opening on his left. There was also a pile of boulders on the right, blocking what appeared to be another passage. The adventurer decided to take the new path.

He came across a wooden overhead structure marking a dead end. On the top there appeared to be a mage researching his scrolls. Below, a Nord was oblivious to the intruder…

Using the custom dagger again, Valdor slit the bandit's throat. Unfortunately for him, the woman let out a scream as he ended her life, catching the attention of the mage, who in turn summoned a lesser bonewalker to fight. He killed the weak pest with a quick yet deadly cut, splitting the creature in half with his steel claymore.

The mage had used the creature to stall allowing him to draw his chitin axe, jump from the overhead structure, and charge at the raider.

"You are no battlemage, outlaw," said Valdor as he quickly disarmed the Dunmer and impaled him on one of the supports for the structure. It was certainly turning out to be a very dirty affair.

He returned to the original tunnel, and came across another unwary bandit. He did a quick stealth kill. The tunnel turned left, and he came face to face with a Redguard mage and an Imperial thief. Valdor ran back to the entrance, dodging the mage's fireballs throughout the cave.

Back at the entrance, the raider found a boulder that would hide him. When the two passed him, he sprang and struck down the weak-bodied mage in one blow, then while his remaining opponent was still in a surprised state, he swung his sword madly, in turn decapitating the Imperial. He returned back to the wooden door-gate, opened it, and found what appeared to be a living area. There were a few scrolls scattered on a desk. He browsed through them, and found one with explosive effects. Valdor grabbed it and returned to the boulders blocking the path.

He chanted the ancient language of the scroll. The spell caused an amazing explosion that removed the obstacle in a blazing flash. The path that appeared to slope downward. Deeper into Pinsun the raider went.

At the end there was a pile of rubble. In it he sensed a powerful presence. He began digging with a miniature shovel he brought, hoping to find the artifact. After a few minutes, he managed to excavate what appeared to be a daedric dagger, giving off a faint glow. Engraved into the hilt was an upside down triangle, with a line segment dividing it in half. It was the Eye of Drek. He heard someone applauding behind him…

Turning, he saw a Dunmer armed in glass and wearing a long black cape.

"What a magnificent performance, Imperial! My, that was amazing."

"Who are you?" replied Valdor.

"They call me Bladehand. I am just here to take back what belongs to my master. I am so impressed with your work I will let you leave here alive. You can also take anything you want from the bandits. A good job indeed. Just hand me the dagger."

"I don't think that's going to work. You see, I came here to get this dagger, I did the work, so I will be taking it home."

"Well then, I am afraid you must die. Such a waste of good talent…" said the strange Dunmer as he opened his crossed arms and revealed an incredibly large supply of high-quality throwing knives.

"Perhaps you wish to reconsider? This is your last chance, Imperial."

"I think I'm good, thank you," replied Valdor with a smile.

"Pity."

Valdor drew his sword and prepared himself. Before he knew it, a knife was stuck in his stomach. It was a seemingly impossible feat. Bladehand had drawn and thrown the knife faster than his eye could detect. The raider stumbled. The mercenary laughed. In a fit of pain, the raider tried to run past him.

Bladehand let him run by, but then turned and followed. The mercenary was playing with his prey.

As the once great raider ran, he was rather certain his time was over. But then he saw an armored man- he looked to be from the Imperial Legion. He kept running toward him, with the blade still stuck in his body. The Imperial removed it, then handed the weakened adventurer a scroll.

"Use it. This fight is for me, Sir Darkus!"

"Wh…. What?"

Valdor collapsed, losing his blood and breath. Sir Darkus drew what appeared to be dwarven styled claymore and faced the raider's pursuer.

"What are you doing fool? This matter doesn't concern you!" growled Bladehand.

"I am afraid it does, swine! Years ago, my ancestor was the only knight who survived the slaughter of your bloodthirsty club! I have trained my body and mind to tear apart all survivors of your putrid faction. I am Sir Darkus, THE LAST RUNE KNIGHT!"

"Then die, and take your old grudge with you to the grave."

Through the exchange of the two sworn enemies' comments Valdor had slowly begun chanting with the Almsivi Intervention scroll, and managed to teleport right as they began to fight. The last of the scene he could remember was Darkus' eyes burning with hatred and vengeance.

The worn adventurer found himself on the ground, collapsed of exhaustion in the Molag Mar temple. A Dunmer priest came over to him, wide-eyed and bent down to get a better look.

"We do get a lot of weary folk coming in, but this is ridiculous. What in the Gods' Graces happened to you, man?"

After a couple days of rest, Valdor sat at his personal home bar quite literally drowning himself in Cyrodiilic brandy. He felt he deserved it after all his hard work.

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Once again, if you see something that doesn't make much sense or is just plain wrong, please tell me in the review. I am willing to improve. 

**ReadingWhiz89**: Woo hoo! I finished catching up with your fanfic. And yes, rumors and legends do add variety.

**Necromancer and Sorcerer**: I sorta decided on the Rune War idea a bit late, but it will continue to be a vital part to this story in coming chapters. Oh, and my story takes place right before yours. I hope this will give you some ideas and flexibility with Valdor ;-)


	5. Chapter V: Into the Lost Tomb

Darn, it seems I will have to cut this story down to six chapters. There will be one last update soon after this. I really hope this one doesn't feel rushed... please tell me what you think.

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"So, how was your trip to Pinsun?" asked Iterdel. 

A few days after acquiring the dagger, Valdor had been training at home, practicing his fighting skills. The raider certainly did not want a repeat of last time. If it wasn't for Sir Darkus, he would have been no more. Even that terrible encounter couldn't halt his desire for adventure.

"Great. You probably wouldn't believe what I ran into, but the dagger is mine now."

"Excellent, you have certainly earned it," replied the vampire. "Are you interested in another treasure, my friend?"

At first Valdor hesitantly withdrew his head, but then answered, "Sure, I'd love to hunt another rare artifact. It's my job of course! Well, more of a hobby I admit. You see, my father was a great sorcerer, and when he died I inherited a good deal of his gold. I find thrill in searching for ancient things in dangerous places…"

"You really are good! Only a couple days after you get back from a big find and you want more! I truly admire you, Imperial," said the Altmer as he took another drink of his Flin.

"Once again, the former owner of our next little treasure was involved in the Rune War, and"- at this Valdor felt a pain in his stomach (despite healing the wound through magic) and his face muscles tightened-"are you okay, Valdor?"

"Oh yes, please continue."

"Anyway, a high commander in Drek's forces was slain and buried in an ancestral tomb. Over time its name has been forgotten. Let me mark its location on your map… There should be a hidden room accessible through a wall-torch that acts as a leaver. The item is an amulet said to make the user invulnerable to fire."

"So how do you know about all this?" the Imperial inquired.

"I am a historian of sorts, and as you know I've had many years to research," replied Iterdel. Valdor then realized his immortality and fascination with history's little known events made an interesting pair.

"It was nice chatting, Iterdel, but I need to be off to prepare." "Oh! May I suggest you take that dagger with you? It could be rather useful." "I suppose," said Valdor as he left Iterdel's home and headed back to his estate.

The raider was armed in chitin just as in his last adventure. He took his trusty silver claymore and the dagger following the Altmer's advice. The raider brought little else- a few lockpicks and probes, but nothing of importance.

He headed to the unknown tomb, which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. There was no definite landmark he could use, no direct path, and many times it seemed like he was going in circles. Strangely, Valdor never encountered any aggressive beast or outlaw on his trip.

After a good long while, he arrived at the tomb. Slowly, he entered. The first room was a standard, nondescript tomb entrance. But nothing was undead. He continued on to the hallway and found no skeletons, bonewalkers, bonelords, or anything of the sort.

The adventurer searched the entire tomb ready to fight, but found no danger whatsoever. It was far too quiet. The raider gave up looking for ghosts and began searching for the hidden room. He found nothing at first. On closer inspection, the fake torch was revealed to be in a small innocent-looking room connected to the hallway, but not too far from the entrance. He pulled it. The tomb wall shifted, revealing a passage into the depths, and Valdor followed.

It led to a large room (with no undead) sporting a few ashpits and lined with urns. On one side, he found a pedestal, and on it was the amulet. He first touched the pedestal and amulet with his sword, making sure there was no trap. Then he took it, and turned around expecting something to appear and attack him. Nothing. What a boring trip it had been.

Valdor headed to the ascending passage, but then heard laughter. He turned to the source, the largest ash pit. In front of it, a Khajiit in daedric armor slowly materialized (she must have been using an invisible spell) and drew a daedric longsword.

"Your abilities are impressive, slayer of the Blademaster. But Nemaya will not fall that easily!"

The female Khajiit charged at Valdor. Quickly drawing his claymore, he parried the blow, and turned running for more space. Nemaya pursued and struck again. He locked swords with her, then kicked his opponent back. He jumped ready to strike on his fall, but the foe locked swords with him again. He retreated into a defensive position as she got up. The daedric armor was far too tough; Valdor would have to aim for the head. She was aggressive, and charged straight at him, yet he dodged the blows all the same. He waited for an opportunity to kill, but it didn't come. He would have to use the signature technique.

He allowed Nemaya to continue her offensive strikes until he sensed her fatigue. Then Valdor knocked her back and ran to the other side of the room. He then charged and became a spinning death blade. The Khajiit had the astounding strength to stop his blade and kill his momentum, throwing him off balance and onto the ground. She followed up with a downward stab. Barely, the raider rolled to avoid it. Nemaya's longsword was stuck in the tomb's structure. Wasting no time, Valdor got back on his feet and decapitated Nemaya, making a bloody little mess in the process.

He tried to draw the daedric longsword from its postion in the tomb, and found it was stuck pretty badly in the floor. After a minute, he did manage to retrieve it. The raider left with a sense of accomplishment. He managed to get a valuable amulet and a piece or daedric weaponry. What a day!

On his way home, he decided he would go to Vos and Sadrith Mora to invite Olaf and Iterdel to marvel at his new treasures.

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**ReadingWhiz89**: Yay! Blood and Gore:-D I will read your fanfics very soon. 

**Elvish Mistress**: Yes, that knife would be a pain... Valdor doesn't always get off easy, but he did in this chapter. Please continue with your Assassin story! I want to know more about Oka-Sheko.


	6. Chapter VI: Final Showdown

Well, I hope everyone enjoys the final chapter of my first fanfic. Sorry it took a while to get this one up. Many things happen in this finale.

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Two fighters sat, chatting jovially at a long, wooden table. They exchanged stories of mighty battles and unparalleled quests as they took a few drinks of brandy.

"A pity Iterdel couldn't come," said Valdor with a sigh. "I am certain he would be interested in seeing it.

"I don't know about this amulet you keep talking about," commented Olaf, "but that daedric sword? Now that is worth a pretty penny. Many a warrior strong would pay dearly for it. How again did you defeat that Khajiit?"

So the conversation continued, eventually leading to Valdor's revelation of his latest findings. The raider had come to trust the old Nord since their adventure in Pulk.

"And you'd prefer to keep all of this? You do not intend to sell it?"

Valdor replied, "Of course not. I have enough gold to keep me on my feet. This is simply my… hobby."

"It was nice visiting, but I can't stay here all night. We may meet again in Vos," said Olaf, ready to go.

"Until then," responded Valdor as the warrior walked out the door.

On the way back to Vos, Olaf was trying to think of what work he could find for the following day. He hadn't any decent pay since the Pulk job, and was clearly running out of septims. Too embarrassed to ask Valdor for a loan, he thought he might find someone in need at the bar.

His chain of thought was immediately disrupted by a remote cloaked figure. The figure was moving on a hill, the way Olaf had come. The figure didn't seem to notice Olaf, and continued on his way.

Back at Valdor's estate, the raider had been cleaning his new sword. He admired the daedric style, and thought of its power and age. The night was quiet as he wiped the blade spotless. So quiet he could here a bow being readied newar the window.

Quickly he leapt backwards as he saw the projectile fly by his face, readying the sword and dashing to the window. There was a large "thunk" noise, and as the cloaked figure fell to the ground, Valdor plunged his sword into his armor, and through the heart. The minutes of work Valdor had dedicated to giving the blade a spotless shine were all for naught. The raider was a bit shocked to find Olaf outside behind the fallen being.

"Olaf! What are you doing back here?" harshly questioned Valdor.

"I saw him approaching your place and followed him," replied Olaf.

"Well, thanks for the support, but you were a little late."

Olaf lifted the corpse and removed the cloak. Under the hood was none other than the face of Marcus Alura. "By the Tribunal, what is this?" exclaimed a horrified Olaf. Tied to the waist of the Imperial was a note.

_Dear Valdor,_

_I was quite certain this one wouldn't give you any trouble. Not after you had taken care of Bladehand and Nemaya. I simply needed an easy vessel for this letter. Now, if you wouldn't mind, meet me on the island south of Tel Mora. By the daedric ruin, you should find my tower. Pay me a visit. If you wish to bring a few friends along, that is fine. But don't bother asking the Legion for help. Just look at the corpse lying at your feet._

_I am eager to see you,_

_Drek_

"How did he hire Alura to do this?" spoke the very confused raider. "Alura was a friend. Something isn't right here… I must go to see Drek."

"Are you sure that is a good idea?" "There aren't many other options. We can't ask the Legion, or we'd have to explain him." Valdor pointed to the deceased captain.

"Then I'm coming with you," declared Olaf. "That really isn't necessary. You don't need to get involved in this."

"But I've helped you before, and I will help you again." "Fine, but remember this is your choice, not mine." The raider armed himself in chitin, took the daedric sword, the dagger, and Drek's amulet. They then left for Vos, intending to find a ship to take them to the isle south of Tel Mora. Something however, seemed to be following them. Valdor had been hearing distant, yet somehow familiar noises…

They had no trouble finding the tower. It was large, and of an imperial design, contrasting with the Telvanni influence of the region (except for Wolverine Hall of course). Valdor sensed Drek would be residing in the uppermost level through a surge of mysticism, a very rare occurrence for the raider.

They entered the large door at its base to find a large room that appeared to be a dining hall. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Right of the entrance was a stairwell. The location seemed almost inviting. Valdor and his friend began climbing to the top of the tower. After a long climb, the stairwell came to an end, and a large room appeared that sharply contrasted with the rest of the tower by its daedric architecture.

Directly across the room from the raider sat an armored figure on a tall throne. The armor appeared to be a mix of strong tempered imperial steel and daedric. It appeared to be eloquent, yet hard.

A loud, thundering voice echoed "Wecome to my lair. Your presence has been requested due to your power, bravery, and masterful skill. You have slain my best men. You have proved they were weak, unfit for servitude. I hereby propose you join me, and together we shall come to power in this land once more. There is but one more thing you must do to prove yourself."

Drek pointed his steel finger at Olaf. "Olaf the Proud has seen far too much. His death is imminent to our secret plans." Both Valdor and Olaf gasped at this demand.

"But he is strong as well! Why don't we both join you, and become even more powerful?"

"This test is for you, Valdor. It will prove that you have what it takes to follow my orders, and await my command. Do as I say!" thundered Drek. "I refuse to do so. I can't betray my friend," replied Valdor. "Then you both must die. But before you fall, know my identity. Your efforts thus far deserve it."

The armored figure stood from his throne, and removed his helmet.

It was Iterdel.

"I originally thought that you were a disposable tool in recovering my lost artifacts. But you proved yourself to be far more. Your defiance will be your downfall, Imperial," said the vampire, as a daedric claymore materialized in his hands.

Olaf charged madly. Perhaps he was blinded by rage. The High Elf disarmed Olaf's axe, then cut the Nord across the chest. Valdor saw this and immediately took a far more cautious approach. He inched toward Drek in a defensive position. The swordsmen circled each other. Then in an instant, they both dashed and locked weapons. Drek's daedric claymore glowed, and Valdor's daedric longsword fell into pieces through what appeared to be a weapon disintegration enchantment so powerful that it turned the blade to dust. Reacting quickly, the raider drew Drek's own dagger. The vampire knocked Valdor onto the ground, and telekinetically took the dagger. The immortal being placed one heavy boot on Valdor's stomach. He cut the amulet from across the raider's neck. Securing both items, he lifted giant sword, ready to impale the adventurer.

As Valdor closed his eyes in bracing for the fatal blow, he did not see the steel that had just pierced Drek's chest.

It then disappeared. And Drek turned around ready to strike. The new aggressor dodged nimbly. Sir Darkus had entered the fray, and once again saved Valdor from death. The raider rose to his feet and watched the new struggle.

They locked, dodged, parried, deflected, and dashed like lighting. Each cut tore through their armors deeply. They were ripping each other apart. Blood and sweat covered each swordsman, but sill neither showed any signs of stopping. The constant sword play went in a flash, then Drek retreated slightly, then thrust the claymore into the Last Rune knight, and lifted him off the ground. Although the vampire expected a scream of pain, he got a dwarven claymore thrusted straight into and out of his skull. They both fell to the ground, but only Darkus came to his feet.

"And on your way to Oblivion, may the demons tear at the very essence of your corrupted soul, leaving you empty and lost in darkness."

These were his last words. The noble knight fell on his side and died quietly. It was finally over. Both warring factions of old had now been finished. And Valdor just wanted his (quite literally by this point) bloody artifacts. He lost his sword permanently, Drek's sword had been conjured and immediately disintegrated with Darkus' death, and he had more respect than to take the knight's sword. Olaf was okay after Valdor loaned him a potion. They buried the knight outside of the tower.

"So what do you intend to do now?" questioned the Olaf.

"First I will get a good night's rest. Then I will be off to the Southwestern corner of Vvardenfell," declared Valdor casually. "Well good luck with that. I'm off to Vos. This time for good."

The raider was certain he had heard of a high noble's tomb someplace near Seyda Neen.

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If anyone finds an error of lore, grammar, or maybe a plot hole, please mention it in your review. I may post some unrelated chapters later, or "pre" chapters before the event. If anyone wants to continue following Valdor, read Necromancer and Sorcerer's Corruption.

**Necromancer and Sorcerer**: I hope you don't mind how I sort of connected this story into yours. I may write more later, but I haven't had much time :-\

**ReadingWhiz89**: I hope you enjoyed how it ended, and weren't too confused by the world of Tamriel. :-P

**Elvish Mistress**: Please keep writing the stories! For A New Life, you can also use Valdor if you wish. I wasn't sure if he'd fit into your story, but if you ever need to use him feel free to do so.


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